


keep you safe

by Yellow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Widowmaker Is Definitely Fine, it turns out your husband's military org will not keep you safe, it's very much a kiss or kill scenario, not really romance? more like obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: Widowmaker shoots Ana Amari's eye out, and she starts to wonder what it would feel like to shoot out her second.(She does not think about the past).(She does not remember the woman who said she would keep Amélie safe).





	keep you safe

**Author's Note:**

> overwatch is fucked up huh

               A hand on hers, steadying.

               “Careful of the backlash,” someone says. She feels someone press into her, soft and warm, and she smells sweat and spices. Her pulse quickens, which is wrong. She misses, which is wrong. She pulls back and someone’s pressing a gun into her hand. She’s not in the practice range anymore.

               “Be safe,” she says, and Amélie turns to look, and all she can see is white smile white hair red blood, first a starburst over the woman’s eye, blooming like a poppy, then dripping all over her, wrists and ankles and throat.

               Widowmaker wakes up. The guard watching through the glass looks at her. She slows her breathing and does not look back.

                

               A few months After, she snuck out. It was easy enough. She knew they knew she did it, but mostly did not move to stop her. She supposed it was enough she knew she was watched.

               She went to the apartment from Before. Empty. Yellow tape. She hung upside down in the bedroom and looked at the walls. Noted the bullet holes about six feet high, carving their own pattern into the delicate wallpaper.

               Widowmaker closed her eyes and- _where’s the gun WHERE’S THE GUN_ _here it is please please careful backlash please you said this would work don’t TOUCH ME gun safe Ana lied someone help they lied she lied help-_

Widowmaker wakes up in her room. There’s a guard outside the glass.

               Weak. Weak. She could barely shoot a gun. That’s what that was-Before. She’s sure. That was her. She was weak, and now she is strong. She holds her breath for as long as she can. Slowly, the shaking stops. 

 

               They are careless, eventually. Talon employs people who do not sleep: people who are barely people. Overwatch is full of righteous soldiers with ideas of justice.

               Justice.

               _Screaming alone help Gérard help someone please help_

_A shadow comes to stand over her and Amélie screams. Her wrists and ankles already bleed from struggling against the cuffs. He simply says, “They will not come.”_

_Then she is quiet quiet and good please yes cold no pain cold slow alone no more pain please quiet._

 

Widowmaker opens her eyes. She wonders where Reaper is, now. She does not care.

               What matters is: the stakeout is long. She stays perfectly still, passes time by counting her slow breaths. And then righteous Jack Morrison is plodding down the street beneath her, coat billowing behind him.

               She starts shooting.

               The wind rushes by her. Her ponytail whips against the walls as she grapples from one crumbling building to the next, her pulse echoes in her ears, slow and steady even as she thrills with every kill. And then she sees her.

               Ana Amari. Widowmaker watches her change position, puts another bullet in a soldier’s head.

               Then there’s a searing pain on the side of her head, and she tears off half of her visor. It sparks in her hand, and Widowmaker finds Ana. She sees Ana’s eyes widen and Widowmaker growls.

It’s an easy shot-easy for her, easy for anyone, because Ana looks stunned. Good, something vicious in her says. It’s not the usual bloodlust. She wants to see Ana Amari beg.

Widowmaker is better, she _will not miss_ -she shoots. Ana’s eye explodes into a mess of blood and Widowmaker savors the way her face looks. She memorizes it: the bleeding eye, the hand going up to her face, useless, the grimace of pain. Ana falls backwards and Widowmaker wants nothing more than to go over there and look, to stand there and taunt her as she bleeds.

               But the rest of Overwatch is gone. She has been told to retreat.

               For one wild moment, Widowmaker wants to disobey. She wants to stand over Ana and press her foot into her destroyed eye until she pleads. She wants to shoot her other eye out. She almost goes.

               Then Reaper appears behind her, silent. She scowls at him.  

               He looks across to where Ana fell, then turns back to Widowmaker and disappears.

               She goes to the rendezvous point, slowly, sullenly. They try to talk to her, but all she can hear is the sound of Ana’s gasp as she fell.

              

               She doesn’t have much to do. She trains every day. Talon is paranoid, obsessive about her skill. She sleeps.

She takes to hanging upside down in her room and staring at the walls. She overlays the bullet holes in that apartment in France on the grey walls that surround her. If she focuses long enough, she can hear a woman screaming, she can see the yellow wallpaper, but every time she starts to recognize the voice, it turns into Ana’s gasp on the rooftop.

She hears Ana gasping, over and over. She closes her eyes. She thinks this is what pleasure feels like.

              

               She wants to hear Ana scream, this time.

               There’s a lone sniper active in Egypt. Widowmaker is used to being treated as if she isn’t there, and it pays off: Ana. They’re talking about Ana Amari.

               She waits a day and leaves when she is supposed to be at the training range. It has been some time since her last excursion and they have relaxed their guard. Foolish.

               It is simple to hide when you barely need to breathe. Widowmaker hides on trains and boats and eventually finds herself in Cairo. The city is large and bustling but it is easy to draw out a vigilante when you are unconcerned with the morality of murder.

 

               Ana finds her within two days.

               Widowmaker throws a mine and then lines up a shot, but Ana throws a grenade and rolls. Widowmaker bares her teeth and shoots, once, twice. She can’t see Ana. She stops breathing, stands perfectly still-she can’t even hear her.

               Her pulse spikes, just like it had in her dream. She sees Reaper looking at her. They won’t come for you.

               They won’t, Widowmaker thinks. But I will come for them.

               She grapples to a new ledge, then another, then one more, and finally spots Ana coruched on a balcony below her.

               Widowmaker jumps.

               She lands and without thinking, punches Ana in the face.

               It shocks both of them, and Widowmaker recovers first, knocks Ana’s rifle out of her hands. She’s close now, close enough to smell Ana’s sweat and to see her only eye, the pupil dilated with fear. She sees Ana’s white hair and she remembers this, she remembers being this close to Ana Amari once before, she remembers feeling safe, she remembers feeling. And then she is holding on to Ana’s arms and shaking her, hard.

               “You _abandoned_ me!” Widowmaker is yelling. She didn’t notice raising her voice. She didn’t know she could. “You lied to me! Gérard is dead and so is Amélie and none of you raised a hand to stop it!”

               Body shaking. Pulse thundering in her ears. She feels like her heart is going to explode. “I took your eye but you took her _life,”_ Widowmaker spits.  

Ana’s eyes are wild. Scared. Widowmaker _thrills,_ pulls back her gun and readies a shot. She doesn’t see the dart.

               Time seems to slow. The dart hits her and her shot goes high. She falls, and wishes absently Talon had succeeded in removing her emotions; her face is wet and her eyes roll wildly. She cannot move.

               Ana stands above her, more uncertain than Widowmaker has ever seen her. She checks the number of darts in her belt, once, twice. And then, just as Widowmaker’s eyes close, Ana begins to pick her up. It’s hard to focus.

               “Amélie,” she hears. Some words she cannot understand. “Sorry,” and then everything is white hair, blocking out her vision. She falls asleep. She smells spices.

 

               A long time ago:

               “Ana Amari. Nice to meet you,” she said. Amélie liked her solid stance and firm handshake.

               “Amélie LaCroix.”

               “Well, Amélie,” she said. “Can you shoot a gun?”

               Overwatch wants to keep its employees and their families safe. Would you like to learn?

               Will that be necessary?

               Hopefully not, Ana told her. But we like to plan for all eventualities.

               All of Amélie’s shots went high. Ana gave her the gun anyway.

               This will keep you safe.

               Amélie looked at Ana, proud and strong: her warm brown eyes, crinkled at the edges, white hair, spilling over her shoulder.  

               Safe. She liked that. She liked Ana.

               Amélie took the gun.

 

(Widowmaker dreams of shooting Ana’s eye out, but every time she goes for the second a new Ana appears, just out of reach.

               ‘I’m so sorry, Amélie,’ they say in one voice.

               Reaper appears behind her.

               ‘You should give up hope,’ he says. ‘They never came for me either.’

               ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ the voices say, and the noise grows and grows until Widowmaker is screaming. She cannot move. And then there is a bright light, and a voice calling Amélie’s name.)

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me @ zevraanarainai.tumblr.com!


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